January 7, 2010

Dirty Dishes, Dirty Thoughts

A woman's work is never done. Is that what they say? Well I'd probably be able to relate to this more if I had kids. But with the messes piling up around here faster than two shakes of a lambs tail, I'd say I do have two kids. Two kids that are grown up-or so they'd like to believe, and not in any way shape or form related to me. I hardly even know these people. What I do know is that they are lazy slobs. I can judge, I think I've earned that right. I used to be a slob. I used to have dishes upon dishes piled in my sink for days. I had piles of dirty laundry everywhere-and sometimes I still do. I used to start a new roll of toilet paper and didn't discard the old used roll. I had. . . soap scum. But then, I grew up. I finally understood why my father would get so angry that I used paper towels every chance I got, instead of using the dish rag to dry my hands. Paper towels cost money. But kids don't understand that, and apparently neither do some adults.

When Shawn moved into the back room of my parents house with me I was still showing signs of my lazy behavior. But in my defense, I was semi depressed and somehow and at some point sinked into a state where I didn't want to do anything ever. I still couldn't find work after working my ass off to graduate in four years. I was still living off my parents. And I had surgery, that had a longer recovery then expected, and received results that devastated me. So i think was entitled to some laziness.

Then Shawn and I packed up our shit and moved 1400 miles east. (*Side note* The roommates just slammed their bedroom door shut, can we say... cry babies?) Anyway, so we moved into a house with two other people, and I knew as we should all know, that it was time to grow up some more and become the clean freak I knew was in me (deep down somewhere!) out of respect to the other 3 people sharing the space. Shawn is nine years older than me so he already found his inner neat freak. Apparently though, we were the only ones who had these epiphanies.

I guess my anger and/or rage bloomed from three tiny things. 1. Toilet paper. If you can reach around behind and grab a new roll, then I'm sure you can throw away the old one and replace it. 2. The trash. It takes a lot less energy to take the trash out to the dumpster, then to pile more and more trash on the already full bag to find yourself 20 minutes later picking up, sweeping up, even mopping up all the shit that has fallen off the mountain and on to the floor. (Of course you wouldn't know that because it's always ME who ends up with the mudslide of trash at my fucking feet.) 3. Dirty dishes. If you're not going to take the responsibility to clean your dishes, then the least you can do is soak them in water so that when I get fed up and do them for you, it's easier for me (and a lot less disgusting) to wash them.

I'm not asking for the world here. In fact I think most normal people would expect these three things upon moving in with anyone. And maybe we should have gone straight to the point that we are roommates first, and friends second, but we didn't. How would we have known that we were moving in with Beavis and Butthead?

Honestly, I think I would be a lot happier with my living situation if I wasn't always in rage and fed up with those three things. I feel like I'm always angry. I fantasize about throwing their dishes out of the sink and into the backyard. Would they notice? Every time I walk into the bathroom and see the brown cardboard roll still on the wall and new roll placed ON TOP I feel like screaming until my voice goes out. Every time I am in the kitchen and see that there is a mountain of trash piled on another mountain of trash piled on the full bag of trash I get angry to only find myself holding back tears. Why the fuck is this my life? I'm 23 not married and no kids, yet I am already feeling the stresses of that life? Why can't I just do the dishes and clean and have it look that way for a couple days, why is that so much to ask? It takes them a mere two hours to completely trash what I spent hours cleaning. And why do they not care? How do they not notice?

I know what you're thinking. Why don't I just say something? Shawn has, and they automatically assume it's an attack. And if he says, "hey I'm not trying to start a fight but..." They still take it as a fight. And then there is tension. And the reason I don't say anything because I am past my point of reconciliation. I am past the point of being nice. And I don't want to be the bitch in the house, and furthermore, I don't want to get kicked out until I can afford it.